


Structure and Stratigraphy Beneath a Young Phreatic Vent

by a_big_apple



Series: and it's bright [3]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Anger Management, F/F, Pearlfriends, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: Volley can hear the distant clash of swords and shouts and grunts of effort. From the top of the arena she watches Pearl fight, her jacket gone, bare shoulders gleaming in the moonlight and limbs and blades flashing against an onslaught of holograms.Steven isn't the only one trying to manage his anger. Another coda to Prickly Pair.
Relationships: Pearl/Pink Diamond's Pearl (Steven Universe), Pearl/Pink Diamond’s Original Pearl | Volleyball
Series: and it's bright [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619890
Comments: 15
Kudos: 113





	Structure and Stratigraphy Beneath a Young Phreatic Vent

It's the middle of Earth's night when Volleyball makes her way to the house below the temple. She doesn't come much in the daytime, unless it's with Pearl; nighttime is better, because Steven is asleep. She doesn't want him to know that she's still a little bit afraid. She doesn't want Pearl to know either.

At this time of night Pearl might have retreated to her room in the temple, but she's just as likely to be doing laundry, or washing dishes, or tidying the house. Gems don't sleep, and pearls like to be occupied. The lights are on as she approaches, but something is amiss—the front of the house looks different, unfinished. She can smell sawdust as she ascends the stairs to the porch, see Bismuth's handiwork in the fresh and naked boards around the door, the new glass in the bay windows. Her hands cover her gem without thinking, pressing against the sudden sensation of dread. She can see Garnet and Amethyst sitting on the couch, so she cautiously knocks and lets herself in.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, letting the screen door swing silently shut behind her.

The gems both look up at her, Garnet as unreadable as ever, Amethyst with a troubled frown. "Hey, V-B. Uh. Not really? But just, like...family drama. World's not ending or anything."

"Oh...is it...is something wrong with Steven?" Volley tries to keep her voice even, soft. "Pearl's been worried about him."

Garnet sighs, something defeated in her posture. "He's having a hard time right now. There was a crisis this morning, but we're working on it with him."

They look so drained, and sound so sad; it's bordering on instinct for Volleyball to come closer, fold down to her knees by the couch and gently touch their idle hands. "Is there anything I can do?"

Discomfort flashes across Amethyst's face for just a moment before she turns her hand over, lets Volleyball hold it palm to palm. Amethysts are tactile, and this one is no exception; pearls are tactile too, she's discovered, when they're free. So it's not the touch, easily accepted. Must be the kneeling, too subservient. There are so many things still to learn, and habits still to break.

Garnet is the one who speaks. "I think you could help Pearl," she says, her fisted hand relaxing a little under Volley's touch. "She's at the arena."

Volleyball nods, squeezes both of their hands. "I know how to get there. May I use your warp?"

***

Garnet is right, of course. As soon as she warps in, Volley can hear the distant clash of swords and shouts and grunts of effort. From the top of the arena she watches Pearl fight, her jacket gone, bare shoulders gleaming in the moonlight and limbs and blades flashing against an onslaught of holograms. She fights viciously, without the precision of a training match or the artistic drama of a demonstration. There’s something in her sweeping strikes and harsh breathing that Volleyball remembers, felt coursing through her when they fused; the ache of old pain and fear layered over with fresh fury, like a lava flow over igneous rock. 

It’s not frightening, the way Pink’s anger was, the way Steven’s was. Volleyball has felt it now in her own limbs, the burn of it in her own chest. It’s the impotence of thousands of years of servitude, that she’s only now learning to see for what it was; it’s the many changes of fate Pearl’s suffered, and her helplessness to alter any of it. It’s struggle, sometimes triumphant and sometimes in vain, but always an _effort_.

Pearl has poofed at least five Holo-Pearl opponents, and just as many dart around her, attacking in twos and threes. Quietly Volleyball ventures closer, descending the arena stairs; when she’s nearly to the bottom Pearl whirls to engage another opponent, spots her, startles. Their eyes catch, but one of the Holo-Pearls gets in a lucky shot, a slice across Pearl’s upper arm. She snarls and throws herself back into the fight. 

“He said he can’t tell me how he _feels_ because I’d only blame myself!” Pearl spits, as if she’s been holding it in for hours. “ _Blame myself_? For raising a child my lover had with someone else?” She leaps out of the way of one hologram, bisecting another with one swipe of her blade. “For being an emotional wreck after millennia of brainwashed slavery? After losing everything I thought my free life would be?” She dispatches two more with a single vicious stab, and squares off against the last. “Well I’ve _grown_!” _Clang!_ “I’ve _changed_!” _Clang!_ “I’m _BETTER NOW_!” She thrusts her sword through the last hologram’s throat, breathing hard as if it's not just an affectation; when it dissipates she lowers her arm, sword point dragging on the ground, and turns toward Volleyball. She looks hurt; not the slice on her arm, or the other places blades caught her, but in the fragile control of her face. “He wants me to see him as he is, but he doesn’t see _me_ ,” she says, desperate.

Volleyball holds out her hands in invitation. “I see you, Pearl.”

Her face crumples and she covers her eyes with a hand, drops the sword and comes to sit beside her. Volley takes her hands and holds them, watches Pearl’s face as she stares at some point beyond the circumference of the arena and tries to bring herself back under control. It takes a long time, but Volley can wait. She’s got nothing but time, and nowhere she’d rather be spending it. Gently she rubs her thumbs across Pearl’s knuckles, their hands tangled together in her lap.

“I’m sure no parents are perfect,” Pearl says at last, quiet and resigned. “We did the best we could. We’re still…” Her shoulders slump a little, and she leans into Volley’s side. “I spent so long taking care of Pink, trying to make her happy, treating her like a child even though she was an adult. I think I treated Steven too much like an adult, when he still _was_ a child. Like an equal, because Rose wanted us all to be equals. And he’s still so young, even in human terms.”

Volley curls an arm around Pearl’s waist. “You love him. I know. I felt it when we fused.” 

“Of course!” Pearl exclaims, her hands clenching together. “Of course I do. Love isn’t always enough, but...it’s worth _something_.”

“I think it’s worth a lot,” Volley murmurs, and Pearl angles a little more into her arm.

“Is that so?” she replies, the first hint of a smile in her voice. Volley dares to press their cheeks together side by side, the tips of their noses touching; Pearl sighs as the last of the tension leaves her. “I’ll take your word for it, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested: this title was swiped directly from an article in a Vulcanology journal. Stratigraphy is the study of strata layers, and a phreatic vent is a place where steam erupts when magma touches underground water. This felt like a good way to describe what Pearl might be feeling, when she lets herself get mad.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr if you like! I'm a-big-apple there.


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